Author's Note: Finally a tiny bit of fluff for Draco! It's in there somewhere with the angst. ;-)
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The Bodyguard
Chapter 10: Friends
Standing in the Ministry lift, heading back up to the surface, Harry watched Draco, who was leaning slumped and disconsolate against the wall and staring down at the floor. He pitied him, but he also wondered what on Earth he was going to do with him.
"You okay, Draco?" asked Harry quietly. It was a stupid question, but he felt he had to say something.
"I'm sore," Draco replied.
The stench of burned flesh was magnified in the confines of the lift. Harry's fingers smarted horribly from touching the flame and he could only imagine how much pain Draco was in. Would St Mungo's be willing to treat a Death Eater? Harry wondered how he'd manage if they refused. He hardly knew any healing spells.
Lupin was searching about in his torn robes. He and Moody hadn't said a thing since they had entered the lift, but Moody was watching Draco.
"You're taking the Death Eater back to the Headquarters, Harry?" Moody asked.
"His name's Draco, Moody, and yes, I am after I get him healed at St Mungo's."
"They won't take him," said Lupin.
"I'll talk them into it," said Harry, with a confidence he didn't feel. "And why shouldn't Draco stay at the Headquarters? He's not the Secret Keeper. He won't be able to tell anyone where it is, even if he wanted to." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco giving him a hurt look.
Moody nodded and looked away with his real eye, though his blue one continued to spin.
There was silence in the lift, apart from the rustle of paper aeroplane memos. Then Draco moved to Harry's side and leaned into his ear.
"Harry, there's something I've never understood. Why do you hate me so much?" Draco's voice was soft and he looked weary and defeated.
Harry thought about what to say. His first instinct was to tell Draco he didn't hate him, but he knew Draco wouldn't be fooled. "You ask that now, after we've been at each other's throats for so many years?" he said wearily.
"I know I've done and said ... things. So have you," said Draco softly. "But you hated me on sight before anything had happened. Remember first year? Madam Malkins?"
Harry could picture the scene as though it were yesterday, the small boy with the pale, pointed face and white-blond hair standing up on a stool. "Yes, Madam Malkins is where I first saw you. We were getting measured up for our first school robes."
"Mother always said I wasn't supposed to talk to children I hadn't been introduced to, just in case they weren't the right kind of people. I don't know why I started talking to you. Maybe because you seemed a bit like me. Nervous about school and all. But you were so rude, Harry. You barely said a word back to me and you walked out of the shop without even saying goodbye."
"I couldn't wait to get away from you," Harry admitted. "You started talking about Quidditch as if you expected me to know all about it, then you said people from non-wizarding backgrounds shouldn't be let into Hogwarts because they didn't know our ways." Harry frowned. "I was raised by Muggles, Draco. I hadn't heard of Quidditch before."
"Ah..." said Draco softly, as if understanding something, but he didn't apologize. "Is that why you didn't want to be my friend on the train?" he asked.
"There was more to it than that," said Harry angrily. "In Diagon Alley, you called my friend Hagrid a savage. Then on the train you said those horrible things to Ron. What was it? Oh, yes. 'Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford.'"
"I did, but I don't see why it upset you so much. It doesn't make sense. You'd known Hagrid and Ron, what? A couple of hours? But you turned against me as if you'd known them all your life. And Hagrid really DOES get drunk and set fire to his bed like a savage," Draco added defensively.
Harry shrugged, and looked away to hide a smile at the thought of Hagrid and his pyromaniac drunkenness. "Yeah, I know he does sometimes. But that doesn't mean you can call him a savage." He took a deep breath. "I make friends fast, Draco. I decide I like someone and that's that. They're my friend for ever and I stick up for them."
Draco swallowed nervously and took a moment to reply. "Like the way you stuck up for me this morning at the Wizengamot?" he said at last.
Realising what Draco was saying, Harry gave him a searching look, then a faint smile. "I suppose so."
Draco bit his lip, and extended a shaking right hand. "Does that mean we're friends now?" he asked unsteadily, as if Harry's reply was very important to him.
Smiling, Harry shook Draco's hand, feeling his burned fingers sting. "We're friends. BUT..." he added firmly, not letting go of Draco's hand. "You're not allowed to put any of my other friends down, Draco. No calling Hermione a Mudblood. No calling Ron a blood traitor or Hagrid a savage." Harry frowned. "It's about time you realised that sort of thing is completely revolting, Draco. You can be such a hateful bastard, sometimes."
"That's really condescending of you, Harry," said Draco, the trace of a whine in his voice.
"I don't care if it's condescending. I MEAN it, Draco! Stay polite to my friends."
Draco hesitated and looked angry, then sad, then hopeful. "All right, Harry. I will. Are we f-friends?" he stuttered.
Harry loosened his death grip on Draco's hand but did not let go. "Yes," he said firmly.
Draco grinned and Harry found himself grinning back. They shook hands. Then Draco unexpectedly flung his arms around Harry and gave him a big hug. Harry patted Draco's back, feeling uncomfortable. Draco always seemed to want to touch him.
"Ha! Found it! I knew I had some somewhere," said Lupin.
Harry and Draco let go of each other. Lupin pulled a small, orange pot from his robes and held it out. "Burn paste," he said happily. "Clears up burns in no time."
"Thanks, Remus!" said Harry delightedly, taking the little pot. He was sure he'd seen similar paste smeared on Cedric's burned face during the Triwizard Tournament.
"Ask Tonks to have a look at Draco before you try St Mungo's," said Lupin. "She excelled at the healing part of her Auror course and St Mungo's probably won't admit him."
"You're brilliant, Remus," said Harry, feeling much better. He opened the pot, dipped his fingers into the orange paste and felt the burns on his fingertips tingle, and the pain start to recede immediately. "Lift your chin a bit, Draco, so I can fix your neck," he said.
Draco lifted his pointed chin, giving Harry a good view of the livid burn across his throat. "Damn the Ministry," Harry muttered to himself, gently stroking the paste over the burn. Draco breathed in hard and trembled at Harry's touch, but kept still. Harry smeared the paste liberally on Draco's neck. "Now your hands," said Harry, and Draco lifted them up. Harry smeared the paste on Draco's fingers, and then his own, then screwed the top of the pot back on and handed it back to Lupin.
"Thanks," said Harry. The pain was nearly gone and he was relieved to see that Draco seemed a lot happier too.
"Yes, thank you, Professor Lupin," said Draco and for the first time, he gave Lupin a friendly grin.
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